Putting Aside Differences
by PBContessa
Summary: Revised.Set after A Man Of His Word. Sydney and Vaughn, through a twist of fate, end up raising the child of Julian Sark. But as their longing for a child of their own increases, the baby's life is no longer the only thing at stake.
1. Chapter 1: Heart to Heart

Title: Putting Aside Differences

Author: BristowBoyScout545 (Tess)

Rating: PG-13

Genre: Flangst

Disclaimer: I don't own Alias, and never have. Read, Review, and Enjoy!

Chapter One: Heart to Heart

"Sydney. Vaughn. Sloane wants to see you in the briefing room." Dixon called to them, interrupting their idle daydreams. Sydney and Vaughn stood up to follow him, and they made their way to the conference room.

Once they were seated, Sloane began.

"The rising threat of the terrorist organization known as CRF has caused concern among the agency. They have claimed responsibility for several acts of violence, including the assassination of a Hungarian politician Edgar Potikov."

The view screen flickered to life as photographs of a particularly gruesome crime scene were displayed, causing a few of them to wince.  
"Luckily, we have a potential breach into the group by way of a defector. We received Intel via an encrypted chain of data programmed into one of our satellites, and under further analysis, we deciphered a message. It detailed a desired meeting with the CIA to arrange a deal: information about CRF in exchange for the guarantee of a safe stay in the United States."

"The same terms Lysanker demanded when defecting from the Covenant." Sydney interrupted the memory of that incident all too fresh in her mind.

"Yes, the same terms. But this time I think you'll find your mission will be eased by the absence of a mole." He replied, reminding them that when he had been made head of APO, he had been given detailed reports of all missions from the past year.

She didn't need to look at Vaughn to know that he had flinched at the mention of Lauren, even if not by name. She wished she could do something to comfort him, because she knew if he kept dwelling on his past mistakes, he would close up, shut her out to protect her. And she had gone so long without him; she didn't think she could stand it. Just when she thought he was really "Vaughn" again, he let the memory of those horrible three years haunt him.

"Agent Vaughn, you and Agent Bristow will meet her at a café in Florence. The contact signal will be a blue pen on the left hand side of the table. You have only a half hour time frame in which you must contact her. We cannot lose this opportunity. Your plane leaves in three hours."

The three stood up to depart, but Vaughn left the quickest, walking briskly out of the room without a word. Dixon looked at Sydney questioningly, who shook her head dismissively.

"Jack. We need to talk."

He stared at Vaughn, emotionless.

"About what, Agent Vaughn?"

Vaughn gave him a clear look until he said,

"Every time you've felt compelled to speak to me, save for the instances where our occupations have forced us to converse, the topic has been either my daughter or Lauren Reed, so analyzing past situations and occurrences, and judging by the pained expression on your face, I would say it's safe to presume you wish to discuss one of the two. Am I correct?"

"As usual." Vaughn answered, taking a seat across the desk from Jack and fidgeting with his watch until he worked up the courage to say what was troubling him.

"I can't live with the guilt, jack. Every damn time things get back on track, I freeze up. I can't get past what I did to her. Everything reminds me of what we would have been…..what we would have been if I hadn't married Lauren."

He sighed, pushing back his hair.

"And I'm supposed to help you how?" the older of the two agents said coolly.

He had an idea where Vaughn was going with this, but he didn't let on.

"You know that Sydney's happiness is everything to me. But I can't help feeling that she might not be….okay. I can tell she hasn't completely healed, and as much as she denies it, I know she never will. And…maybe it's hurting her too much to be with me. Because I can see it in her eyes, when she looks at me, she's reminded of what I did."

Vaughn sighed heavily again, trying to cope with the emotional battle raging inside of him.

"You're right in saying that Sydney will never fully recover from what she's gone through, but losing you again will only add to her pain. Despite everything Mr. Vaughn, my daughter seems to need you."

He hesitated for a moment before continuing.

"and I won't stand by and watch her suffer that loss."

Jack was struggling to conceal his feelings, something that usually came easily to him. He inhaled deeply, trying to regain composure, but the thought of his little girl going getting hurt even more, that was unbearable.  
"However, if Sydney shows signs of needing her space, you will do everything in your power to see that she gets just that. Or I will do everything in my power to see that your actions do not go without heavy consequences."

He knew Jack too well to take him lightly, considering the lengths he had taken to conceal Lazarey's murder.

"There are some mistakes you can't make twice." He answered determinedly.

With that, he left the office without a backward glace at the man who might someday be his father-in-law.

------------------  
"Hey, have you seen Vaughn?" Syd asked as she approached Weiss.

"Never fails." Eric shook his head in disbelief.

"Where's Vaughn? Do you know where Vaughn is? I can't find Vaughn. It's not even Weiss, can you please help me locate my absent-minded boyfriend because you are the greatest guy in the world, or Eric, my closest and dearest friend, will you pretty please aid me in my search for the ever elusive Michael Vaughn. No, it's always hey, where is he?"

Syd laughed. "Okay. My best friend in the whole world that's not in witness protection, will you be so kind as to inform me if you have laid eyes on agent Vaughn recently?"

She maintained a straight face as he replied,

"Now that's more like it, although I noted your pretty pleases were in short supply. No, sorry I haven't seen him. Wasn't he just in briefing with you?"

She bit her lip.

"He took off after the meeting."

"Just like that?" Weiss questioned. It didn't sound like mike to him.

She looked down as she spoke, "Sloane mentioned Lauren in the brief today. not in an accusing way, but he just zoned out after that. Weiss, I'm worried about him. One minute he's fine, and the next it's like he's back in the past. And it's not like I can do anything because he won't talk to me about it. Like, he thinks it's a burden for me, to know what's on his mind."  
She was frustrated with herself as she failed to help him conquer the demons he was constantly facing.

"I know Syd. I know. But he'll be okay. He just needs our support right now. He needs you now more than ever."

"I only hope it's enough."

"Sydney, you're always enough for him."


	2. Chapter 2: The Defector

Chapter Two: The Defector

Vaughn and Syd were dressed casually for the meet, both in jeans. They strolled down the street inconspicuously, just another couple on a romantic getaway to Italy .

"Do you see the defector?" he asked, screening the large gathering of patrons surrounding the popular shop.

"The one over there. In the red." She answered, leaning her head so that he followed her gaze.  
They crossed the fairly busy street, dodging oncoming traffic until they reached the sea of tables, chairs, and young couples that awaited them at Café Amour. They stood twelve feet away from the table where the woman sat in khakis and a red v-neck long sleeved top. On the napkin the left of her coffee was a navy colored fountain pen. She was unmistakably the defector.

"Syd." Vaughn stopped her in her tracks.

"What?" she asked, turning to face him.

"She's pregnant."

She looked back at the woman. Curly, caramel brown hair hung in perfectly articulated spirals, and jade green eyes that were supposedly absorbed in a book. One glance at the cover of it, or the reader's stomach for that matter, told her what Vaughn meant. It read: Dr. Healy's Guide to Being a Single Mother. The lady looked about 26 or 27, and her eyes, despite their brightness, had a tired look about them. They approached the table, taking the chairs opposite her. Never looking up, the young woman flipped the page of the thick book she was so engrossed in.

"I'm Agent Bristow, and this is Agent Vaughn."

"You requested a negotiation meeting with the CIA." She tried again.

With a sigh, the woman closed the book.

"I'm sick of this life. I never wanted to have a child, but now that it happened…I'm almost looking forward to it. A fresh start. I'm through with all the double crossing, and the lies, always having to watch my back. And Rambaldi. When the baby's father found out that I was pregnant, he said it was this child's destiny to bring desolation to the world. I didn't believe him, of course, but obviously I was concerned. This carried on for about eight months, until I decided to contact you. I want out of CRF. I know he'll do anything to find her, but he won't harm her for fear of ruining his idiotic prophecy, so I'll be safest with her. I'll tell you everything I know about him and CRF if you guarantee we'll be safe in the United States." She spoke softly, with a faint Irish accent.

"We'll do everything we can. For now, we'll all stay at a safe house not far from here. We have a flight back to the States tomorrow," said Vaughn.

"Thank You. For everything. By the way, my name's Molly McDermott."

"Sydney Bristow."

"Michael Vaughn."

-----Later that night-----

"It's getting late. I should get to bed." Molly said, leaving her empty mug in the sink.

"I'll show you to your room." said Sydney, leading her up the stairs and into a room on the left.

"I hope you'll be comfortable here for the night."

"Once again, thank you for everything."

She smiled at Syd, and closed the door. Sydney's left hand trailed down the banister as she made her way back the stairs where Vaughn was working on his laptop. She sat on the couch beside him, and curled her body against his. He typed a few more strokes, then shut down the machine, turning to face her.

"What is it?" he asked, concerned.

"The whole time I was thinking of my mother, Vaughn. When she died, I was sure every word she had spoken to me was a lie. How am I supposed to be a mother one day, if I've never seen what it means to be one."

He took her hands as he spoke, his gentle tone coaxing her to lift her eyes to his. "Hey…you are nothing like your mother. We still have a while before worrying about kids, but when we do, you're going to be a great mom. You've never had a good role model, but you have everything you need to be a parent. Syd, you're selfless, and gentle, and giving, and most of all, you love stronger than anyone I know. Whenever they come, our children will be lucky to be yours." He pressed a reassuring kiss to her lips before wrapping her in his arms and she leaned into the embrace. Burying her face in his shoulder, she smiled softly as she realized that he had said, "our." _Our children._


	3. Chapter 3: Pages From the Past

Chapter Three: Pages from the Past

"Syd. Syd wake up. We gotta get ready for the trip home."

Vaughn shook her shoulders lightly, and she was still asleep in his arms where she had spilled her insecurites last night. Slowly, she awoke, transitioning into consciousness with a quiet yawn and soft stretch, vacating the couch with a limber motion. "I'm going to shower," she informed him, and she placed a gentle kiss on his lips and he watched her ascend the stairs. Once she reached the second level, she entered the third door on the right, closing it behind her. Her clothes were quickly deposited on the floor, and she slid the shower curtain closed as the hot water engulfed her, the steam fogging her senses. Her mind raced with thoughts of their conversation the night before, allowing herself to indulge in fantasies once too painful to entertain.

_Little girls with copper curls and dimples. Little boys with bright green eyes and crooked smiles._ Their images were so clear, so perfect. They could have it, finally. They could be a family together. They could've been once. She shook her head, pushing those thoughts from her mind. She knew she wasn't being practical. She and Vaughn were just starting to get their relationship back on track, having children wasn't anywhere near where they were emotionally. But when would they be able to think of the future? Things weren't they way they had been when they had started out, and they knew they didn't have forever. They were running out of time…

She finished shampooing and turned off the water, wrapping a fluffy white towel around her form as she stepped out of the shower. Then she realized she had left her bag downstairs.  
--------

He gingerly raised the mug to his lips, taking a cautious sip. He sighed as the temperature and the caffeine began to awaken him, his sense becoming more alert and focused. Closing his eyes, he recalled the words she had spoken before they had fallen asleep. He had relieved her doubts, but her words stuck with him, tempting appealing visions of what their future might hold.

_Their hands resting on her raised stomach, feeling their excited child kick for the first time. A baby in her arms, a soothing lullaby enticing their little one into slumber. A little life that was all their own…_

He ran a hand down his face, dismissing the thoughts. They still weren't over what had taken place the last three years, much less in a good place to start a family. But they had been ready once before, hadn't they? He could still see her smiling face as they sat in his car, the last time he saw her alive for years. They had been ready for it then, he was sure. But he wasn't sure how to find a way back to that place.

He was pulled from his musings as her voice floated down from upstairs._  
_

"Vaughn, I left my bag in the living room. Can you bring it up, please?"

"Sure, Syd," he answered from the kitchen where he had been drinking his coffee.

He crossed into the living room, and was about to pick up the black duffel, when the heading of a paper caught his eye in her half open attaché case next to the overnight bag. The heading read, "Approval of the Application for Field Removal." Confused, he read the following text: The request of Agent Sydney A. Bristow to be re-assigned temporarily to a desk position has been approved by senior officer, R. Devlin.

At the bottom of the page, Devlin's signature was clearly written. Vaughn took the paper with him, along with Syd's bag, as he climbed the stairs, rereading it to make sure he was getting the right message. Syd wanted out of the field, and had gotten approval from Devlin of all people. Why?

"Sydney, what's this?" he asked as she opened the bathroom door to get her clothes. He wasn't ready for the horrified look on her face when she realized what he had.

"Why did you apply for a desk job? Is this about your mother?" he asked, worriedly.

She shook her head slowly.

"Then why?" It didn't make sense to him.

She bit her lip. She knew she had to tell him, but how could she? She wasn't sure how he would react.

"Look at the date on the paper." She whispered. It was dated over three years ago, to the day before the fire at her apartment.

"Syd, I don't understand. Why would you apply for a desk job when Sloane was still at large?"

She swallowed, unable to meet his gaze, then spoke in an almost inaudible whisper, "Because that's what was best for the baby."  
---------------------------------------------


	4. Chapter 4: Salted Wounds

Chapter Four: Salted Wounds

"What?" his mind was racing at the speed of sound and all of his thoughts were tangling together, making it hard for him to grasp a single idea.

"I was going to tell you in Santa Barbara. But, when I woke up in Hong Kong…I knew the baby couldn't have survived my fight with Allison."

She gasped slightly, tears welling up and spilling down her cheeks, leaving tiny trails of sorrow, and she bore the pain of a suffering mother in her eyes.

"Syd." He stared at her tear streaked face. He was supposed to be a father. The father of Sydney's child. They would have had a family together. The way things should be.

The silence itself seemed to be mourning the loss. Then, amid the shock he was experiencing, a thought nagged at Vaughn until he spoke.

"Did you tell Weiss?"

"I didn't even tell Franc-" she stopped herself. "Allison. I wanted you to be the first to know." She brushed a tear off her cheek, bewildered by his question.  
"Syd, what I meant was…after you came back….after you came back, did you tell Weiss?"

She inhaled deeply. "Vaughn. Recovering from that loss, plus losing you, I couldn't go through with it on my own. I needed to tell someone." She braced herself, quickly building an emotional barrier to keep out the harsh words she knew were about to escape his lips.

"Don't you think I should've been the one you told? Didn't you think that I deserved to know?" he answered angrily.

"What did you want me to do Michael? 'Excuse me, Lauren; can I borrow your husband for a minute? I need to tell him I was pregnant with his child two years ago!" she shouted. He flinched, but more at the mention of his late wife than at her volume. She opened her mouth to speak, but instead of yelling, her voice faltered.

"I told myself, if it didn't happen for you…" she broke off, her tears returning.

"If it didn't happen for you then it didn't have to have happened for me."

Vaughn crumpled the paper in his fist.

"God Damn it, Weiss could have told me!" he fumed. "Did he ever consider the fact that maybe, just maybe, I might like to know I was supposed to be a father?" his tone was full of anger that he didn't bother to repress.

"At the time, telling you would only complicate all of our lives which was something we definitely DIDN'T need! Because that would've just brought back feelings neither were allowed to feel anymore. You have NO idea what it was like to love someone so much, and know that they don't love you back."  
She held his same angry expression, but hers was just a front, masking the pain and fear she had pretended to overcome.

"Is that what you think?" his usually mellow disposition was long gone, his face contorted with rage.

"Sydney, I never stopped loving you."

"That's funny, coming from the man who didn't regret moving on with his life," she retorted, the sarcastic edge of her voice cutting into him. He was silent, so she continued.

"The man whose wife I was accusing of being a traitor out of jealously." Their eyes met, and they both trembled for a moment, emotions boiling over.

"I'm sorry Syd, it's just…this makes what happened between us even harder." He watched her, trying to anticipate her response. It wasn't the one he had hoped for.

"Well then I'm sorry we were going to have a baby if that makes your life harder."

He stared, feeling as if she'd slapped him, although in her case it would be more like a right hook.

"That is not what I meant."

"Honestly, I don't know what you mean anymore." The snide sarcasm was gone. Now there was just disappointment.

"I love you Sydney. I mean that." His sincerity shone in his eyes, along with the regret, and the desire to fix the past mistakes.

"I'm sorry I hurt you. I know don't deserve a second chance, but I promise you, I will spend the rest of my life trying to make things right. I love you so much."

He reached out a hand, gently cradling her cheek. She closed her eyes, resting her head in his hand as she had done all those years a go while she soaked in the bathtub, his gentle touch numbing the pain inflicted by the cruelty of the world. She knew they would have to finish their talk eventually, resolve unresolved problems, and heal old wounds. But for now, she would soothe her heart, which was aching for him.

She opened her eyes, turning her head to kiss his palm, her whisper grazing his warm skin.

"I love you." The words both had felt but never spoken were finally said. She raised her hand to close around his, her fingers wrapping around his until the tips rested in his palm.

"I know we'll have to talk about this more, before we can get closure, but for now, let's just let it go." Their eyes met, the emerald of his locking with the light copper of hers, a ray of understanding passing between them. He signified his consent by releasing his grip on the crumpled document, letting it fall to the floor. The hand that had so recently held a long concealed secret was now resting on Sydney's hip, drawing her into a tender kiss. Her free hand left her side, rising to meet his warm chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath her fingertips; the heart that beat for her alone. All of his tension and anger melted into passion, a desire he transferred to her through his loving kisses and the gentle caress of his thumb on her cheek.

"I love you. I love you." He murmured into her lips, letting her feel the words form on his tongue. Her hand traveled up to his neck, stopping at the base of his head, pulling his lips closer to hers. Only the being of Molly's alarm clock across the hall brought them back to reality.

"I should get dressed."

"You should."

She took her black bag from the hall floor, and with a last, shy glance, disappeared behind the closed door.  
-----------------------------  
Back in L.A.

"You're heart's pounding." He whispered as he placed kisses down her jaw line and onto her neck. She placed a palm against his bare chest, her other hand running through his hair.

"So is yours." She answered. Then, she shifted her head so her lips grazed his ear, "We're the same."

He looked into her eyes, a solemn expression on his face. Then, he placed a single kiss on her stomach.

"That's for our baby."


	5. Chapter 5: Old Aquaintances

Chapter Five: Old Aquaintances

"Hey Stranger." Vaughn smiled as Sydney set a steaming cup of coffee in front of him.

"You slept in pretty late." She continued, taking a sip from her own mug.

He glanced over at the stove, reading the digital green numbers.  
"Syd! It's past ten thirty! Why didn't you wake me up? He began to get down from the stool he was seated upon, but she grabbed his wrist, making him halt.

"Vaughn, I got a call from the office, we don't have to go in yet." She explained patiently.

"Why?" he asked, raising the mug to his lips and taking a sip.

"We were supposed to start debriefing Molly today, but she went into labor earlier. Actually, I was waiting for you to wake up so we could to the hospital."

He stared at her incredulously.

"Sydney, this woman only cares about her daughter's safety because it ensures her own. She just wants to make sure she's protected from the baby's father. We talked on the plane while you slept, and the baby she's having is Sark's."

She let his words penetrate for a moment, unsure of how well her brain was processing this. "Sark's? He was the one who thought she was the Fulfiller of the Prophecy? But I thought his group was convinced I was the Chosen One."

"That was the Covenant. This is CRF. New freaks, new theories." He shrugged, and then placed a hand over hers. "I'll go to the hospital with you if you want me to." She smiled. "Let's go, then."  
----------

Vaughn let his eyes soak in the image of the woman he had loved for so long. Had it only been three years he had been without her? It had seemed like an eternity, every day painfully long, the clocks moving so slowly he could swear they had stopped. But now, now things were different. Time, though always a warped concept when they were together, was moving at exactly at the right speed. Everything was in sync; their hushed "I love yous" and gentle caresses, down to their racing heartbeats and the rhythm of their accelerated breaths. They were completely in tune, always aware of the other's thoughts, movements, and emotions. He had so longed for that connection, that bond while they had been apart. During the year that she had returned, the nights without her had been especially painful, and he had often stayed up, torturing himself by wondering whether or not she was awake, and if she was, what was she doing? Reading a book or watching a movie perhaps. Was she thinking about how he had hurt her? Or worse, was she crying? He had tried not to dwell on that thought, but he hated himself for knowing that if she wasn't asleep, her tears were probably the reason.

"Hello?" the voice he knew so well, the voice that had once whispered lovingly in his ear. The voice he had tried to erase while he drank himself into oblivion night after night. For the first time in a long while, the voice sounded content. His heart thudded painfully as he knew her mood would change drastically before the call was through.

"Hi." He brought himself to answer.

"Hi." She too knew his voice by heart, and sounded pleased to hear it. No, he pleaded silently. Hate me, Sydney. Despise me. Because your heart is about to break again.  
"I'm sorry about how I got pulled away earlier." He heard her inhale deeply then release the breath as she asked, "How is she?"

"It's hard, dealing with her father's death and betrayal." Silence penetrated the conversation as she interpreted his words. Then, although he knew she had reached her conclusion, she weakly posed the question. "Are you at Eric's?"

There was still a trace of hope in her voice. Hope he was about to rip away from her and grind into a million irretrievable pieces. Why is she so forgiving? He wondered. After everything I've done to her, she's still so pure.

"No." he said, the word clawing at his throat as he answered her question. There. He had done it. He had just destroyed the life of the only person who could complete his. In doing that, he destroyed who he was, what had once been loving and kind replaced by spite and anger. He could her breathing becoming shallow as she bravely stifled a sob.

"I see." She managed to answer. The sheer disappointment in her voice paralyzed him. He couldn't speak, couldn't move. He was consume by an emptying pain, which only intensified as he realized his suffering was nothing compared to hers.

"Well, I guess we won't be getting that cup of coffee."

"No, we're not." No. Why was that all that could come out of his mouth? He was yearning to say yes. Yes, I want to be able to see you again. Yes, I'm sorry I hurt you so much. Yes, I want to try and fix things between us. And most of all, Yes, I love you. But he stayed silent, and her control of her emotions was breaking.

"I'm gonna go." She choked, her tears winning the battle she had been fighting as she attempted to hide how hurt she was.

Subconsciously, he gave her hand a small squeeze. She squeezed back, never taking her eyes off the road.  
"I'm sorry."  
"For what?" She gave him a concerned look as the car halted at a red light.

"Everything I put you through."

She leaned over and kissed his cheek.

"Not now" she whispered.

"Syd, we have to talk sometime. We both need closure." She bit her lip, which was still swollen from the previous night's kisses.

"I know." She admitted.

"Then why don't we?" He pushed.

"We will."

"When? We can't keep putting this off, Syd. If we're going to move on, we can't just deny it ever happened. It was three years of our life."

"I know that better than anyone, Vaughn." She fixed him with a hard stare, hoping he would back down and drop the subject. But he persisted.

"Then you should want to talk about it."

"Look. Why are you so intent on reliving that time?"

The car behind them honked loudly, jolting the couple into realizing that the traffic light was now a piercing shade of green. He watched her for a few moments before whispering, "So that's why you don't want to talk about it. You're afraid you'll feel that loss again."

He brought her hand to his lips, and kissed it gently. "We'll be safe. The wounds will hurt a little, but once we've sorted things out, we'll have a chance to heal. We'll be able to put it behind us. Isn't that what you want?"

"More than anything." She took a slow breath. "Tonight we can talk."

She pulled into a vacant parking space, the loose gravel that littered the graying asphalt crunching beneath the tires. As they headed towards the clear automatic doors, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"This is a civilian hospital. No protocol to follow." He whispered, making her smile.

"Like that's ever stopped us."

Once inside the lobby, Sydney began to examine a large sign near the front desk.

"Birthing suites are on the fourth floor."

"Let's get this over with." He muttered under his breath as she dragged him into the large elevator and pressed a button on the small silver panel.

Once the doors closed, he swallowed before cautiously asking, "Syd, are you sure you can do this? See Molly with her baby, I mean."

Concern filled his voice, and was evident in his expression. "I'll be okay," she said quietly, then nodded slightly as if to assure herself.

"I'll be okay." She repeated even more quietly, slipping her hand into his, causing his heart to race slightly. The elevator came to a halt at the fourth floor, and the metal doors parted, allowing them to step into the lobby. Directly to the left of the elevator was a beautiful wood carving set into the wall. The polished surface seemed to emit a soft glow, which illuminated every detail of the remarkable statue. It depicted Mother Mary, dressed in a simple gown and veil, her face a picture of sheer love as she gazed down at the child whose tiny hands were placed in hers. The small boy, the child Savior, was in turn smiling up at her as she helped him to walk, laughing with joy. Syd bit her lip, as the pain of the motherhood she had lost stabbed at her heart. Vaughn, sensing her hesitation, gently steered her to the right, towards the small desk.

"Hi. We're here to see Molly McDermott." He spoke to the disgruntled looking receptionist. She typed something on her keyboard, the plastic clicking impatiently.

"Room 407." She spoke in a flat, monotone voice, and didn't look up from the screen as Sydney answered, "Thank you."

They pushed through the clear doors that were next to the long wooden bench that had been against the wall opposite the elevator, leading them into a narrow, horizontal hallway.

"Here it is. Room 407." They stopped in front of a door a little ways down the left hand hall.

"Here goes nothing." He raised his right hand and knocked three times on the hard surface.

"Come in." called a soft voice. He turned the silver handle and held the door open for Sydney. She smiled, crossed the short hall space, and stood n the large suite. Along the left-hand wall was a large wardrobe, which matched the deep mahogany of the door. Beside it stood a large entertainment center, housing a TV. Directly ahead was a floor-to-ceiling window with the maroon drapes drawn shut. And, in the hospital bed, sitting up and cradling a small baby, was Molly, her amber curls damp for labor, and her eyes looking tired, but bright. Upon seeing Sydney, her face broke into a wide smile.

"Agent Bristow, Agent Vaughn, have a seat." They pulled two chairs close to the metal bed railing, and Molly held the baby close to them. She was very red, had chubby cheeks and a mass of dark hair, with a pink yarn bow tied around a small wisp of the delicate strands.

"Oh, she's an angel." Sydney cooed, instantly captivated by the baby girl before her.

"Do you want to hold her?" Molly asked, beaming at them. Sydney reached out and accepted the precious bundle, careful to keep the child warm.

"What's her name?" Vaughn inquired, leaning closer to Syd to get a better look. Molly looked sheepish before answering, "I actually haven't decided yet."

He was about to answer when shrill alarms resounded through the entire hospital. Earsplitting gunshots could be heard on the floors below, and the sound of glass shattering and screaming echoed through the halls. Then, over the intercom system, a frustratingly familiar voice, characterized by a British accent, spoke these words, "Just dropping by to see our firstborn, Molly."  
----------------------------------------------------


	6. Chapter 6: Collateral Damage

Chapter Six: Collateral Damage

"Sark." Vaughn spat with disgust.

Molly's eyes were wide with fear, and she frantically clutched Sydney's arm.

"Sydney, listen to me. You can't let them get her. Take her somewhere, somewhere safe, where they can't find her. Please." Her voice was hoarse and desperate as she pleaded for her daughter's life. Vaughn stood up.

"Syd, go. I'll call for backup. But for now…" He pulled a gun out of the shoulder holster he had concealed under his brown jacket. It was a .12 Beretta that had a customized trigger that responded to his grip alone, courtesy of the Flinkman lab.

"I'll try to hold them off," he finished. A determined look of resolution had now overcome his face.

"Sydney, across the hall is a set of double doors. In the room, there should be a supply closet with extra scrubs. You can disguise yourself as a doctor."

Sydney gave her a quizzical look, but Molly dismissed it with a grim, "Old habits die hard."

Syd got up, heading for the door, still carrying the sleeping baby, then paused to look back at Molly. "What about you?"

Her expression hardened, a fierce strength shining behind her bright green eyes. "I wait." Vaughn nodded, then pushed through the door, gun drawn, followed closely by Sydney. They spotted the doors Molly had mentioned, and Syd looked at him one last time before disappearing behind them.

"Be safe," she called. Then, she was gone.

He gripped the Beretta tightly as he headed towards the stairs. The guards seemed to be doing a good job of holding back Sark's forces. This would give him time. He pulled out his phone and hit the speed dial for the APO headquarters. 

"Jack Bristow," came the cool, emotionless voice.

"Jack, Sydney and I are at the hospital with Molly. Sark and his men are storming the place and we need backup. Syd's taking the baby somewhere safe, so I'm on my own here."

"I'll send over a team." A soft click and the hum of the dial tone confirmed his thoughts. For now, he was on his own. He hurried down the deserted staircase, towards the sounds of chaos. Bursting through the door, he found himself in the middle of a fire fight. Then, the hospital guard collapsed, the aim of the CRF agent striking its target. Vaughn ducked behind a laundry cart as a bullet headed his way. He dodged out to return fire, his shot barely missing the man clad in black fatigues, crouching in a doorway. Three more bullets lodged themselves in the wall behind Vaughn's head, each one coming closer.

Then, inspiration struck him and he pushed the cart with all his might, causing it to hurtle towards his adversary, who dived just in time. However, as he hit the floor, the impact knocked his gun out of his hands and skittering across the tile. Vaughn darted out and grabbed it, and as his gaze left the masked man, he saw another man in black burst through a door on the other side of the hallway, and head for the staircase that Vaughn had just come down. His battle had drawn him away from the entrance, and the man had a clear path. As he pushed through the door, he removed the ski mask that hid his features.

"Sark!" Vaughn shouted, momentarily forgetting the other agent. The man used his opponent's lapse in concentration to tackle him, both guns falling out of Vaughn's grasp. His assailant grabbed the Beretta, and pointed it at a helpless Michael Vaughn. A bullet connected with its target, who collapsed lifeless on the tile.

"Mike!" shouted Eric Weiss, his gun still pointed at the figure in black.

"Go after Sark. I can take these guys." He fired twice at three more CRF agents that came running down the hall, quickly approaching the two men. Vaughn scrambled to his feet, grabbed his gun from the floor, and tore down the hall, brutally shoving the door to the stairway aside, and ran up the steps, taking three at a time. Just before his fingers connected with the cool metal surface of the hinged barrier, a single gunshot rang through the halls, making his blood run cold.

"No." he gasped, tearing down the hall and ramming the door to Molly's room with his shoulder. It gave way, and he stumbled into the suite. Slightly slouched in the bed, blood pouring from a bullet wound in her heart, was Molly McDermott.

"No," he whispered again, kneeling beside the bed to take the pulse in her left wrist. Nothing. Molly was dead, and Sark was gone. He turned away, but something caught his eye. He carefully opened her fist, and in the middle of her palm sat a tiny pink bow.


	7. Chapter 7: A New Hope

Chapter Seven: A New Hope

"Our scars remind us that the past is real." Scars, Papa Roach

Sydney was curled up on one side of a big red couch, the baby sleeping in her arms. He brushed the hair back from her face, kneeling down beside her to whisper, "Syd, it's me."

Her eyelids fluttered softly until she sleepily opened her warm brown eyes.

"Vaughn," She said in a hushed tone. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard. She wrapped her arms around him, the baby cuddled in her lap. She shut her eyes tightly, her fingers gently stroking his hair.

"I was so worried. But you're safe now."

He slowly pulled back to look into her eyes.

"But that baby's not." He answered sadly.

"You didn't catch Sark?"

He shook his head.

"He escaped, and the CRF agents we did capture were already dead."

She swallowed, processing the information.

"And Molly?" he took her hand, and looked down at the floor of the train station.

"Sark killed her. I'm so sorry, Sydney." He sat beside her on the sofa, a defeated sigh escaping him. She too stared at the tile, than at the baby. Then she looked back at him.

"She knew if Sark found her without the baby, he'd kill her. But she let me take her anyway." The pad of her thumb brushed the smooth cheek of the infant in her lap.

"She saved your life." She whispered to her.

"And now it's our turn to do that. After the fight, I talked to your father. We're being sent on a long-term mission to keep the baby away from Sark. Your dad will meet us here in an hour, with a rental car, keys to a safe house, and our mission files.

She nodded, not looking away from the baby girl, who she noticed had lost her bow.

"Syd, how did you escape? Sark had men all over that hospital building."

"Molly saved me too. I took the scrubs, but I couldn't go out in plain sight with the baby, so I hid her in a laundry bin. I wheeled her out through the back, and down a service elevator. Thank God Sark had no men down that hall. The alarms were so loud; it took awhile to calm her down after we got out. Then, she slept until she got hungry about an hour ago.

"What did you feed her?" he said, eyebrows raised. Reaching down, she grabbed an empty bottle and a partially drained container of formula from a red diaper bag.

"I ran out to the store." She answered flatly. She looked around the station, a savored memory flooding her head.

"Remember the last time we were here?" she gave him a shy smile, which he returned.

"Yea, back when we could be killed if we were seen together."

They sat for awhile, lost in the past, then, as Sydney once again studied the infant in her arms, she spoke softly.

"What do you think we would have named our baby, Vaughn?" she asked thoughtfully, their gaze meeting.

It didn't take him long to answer, the ideal name coming to him instantly.

"Christine. Or Thomas. I don't know, what about you?" she smiled at his name suggestions, both of which she would have chosen herself.

"I like those. And maybe Samuel for a boy."

Soft grins spread across their faces, and then her expression turned somber. She hesitated, then asked slowly, the words painful to utter.

"Did you and Lauren ever talk about having kids?"

He let out a long sigh, knowing she wanted a full and honest answer.

"Not directly. She was more subtle things, like 'oh, her name is Rachel, such a pretty name for a child' or 'five children! One or two is enough don't you think, Michael?'. But you'd think having a baby would seal the deal on our Happy Ending, wouldn't it?" he said sarcastically. Then he mentally slapped himself. That was the reason for Sydney's existence. 'Way to bring that up' he thought darkly.

"It doesn't matter." She muttered, correctly interpreting his silence. Then she met his eyes.

"I saw you with her. I hade made contact with Kendall, and I wanted to see you. He warned me about how long it had been, but I told him that you loved me, and nine months wouldn't mean a thing. I saw you together, and maybe that was enough, or maybe I realized I would just put you in danger, I don't know. That was about the time the baby was due. In a way, I'm glad I don't remember anything. The things Kendall described..." she paused for a moment, the words she was saying straining her.

"Then, I woke up in Hong Kong. I had a sliver of hope that our baby had survived my fight with Allison. But then I saw that scar." She broke off again grief at though of her child's early death choking her slightly.

"When you told I had been missing for two years, and that you had gotten married, I didn't want to believe that is was you."

_Sydney reached back, and felt the small tranquilizer dart embedded in her shoulder, then slowly turned to face the shooter. It was Vaughn, gun still raised. The sedative began to take effect on her, and she collapsed to her knees. This seemed to alarm the man, who had lowered the weapon and taken a step forward, looking to catch her before she fell._

"Don't." she gasped, desperately fighting the chemicals in her blood stream. He would only care if she collapsed if-No, Vaughn wouldn't-he would never-

"Don't." she pleaded again. Don't be Vaughn. Don't let it be true, please-the drugs took control of her body, and she fell in to strong arms that had held her so long ago.

Her body tensed, and she was unsure if she could continue. Always aware of how she felt, he brushed the smooth amber bangs from her face, whispering softly.

"It's alright. I need to hear it." She nodded.

"Trying to move on, was difficult, so I tried to convince myself that we hadn't really loved each other, that our relationship had just been about sex, and hadn't meant anything." She waited for the hardened expression on his face, and it came. 

She knew he was about to speak, about to apologize for never telling her how much she meant to him, but she shook her head, telling him he didn't need to.

"I didn't believe it. I knew it wasn't like that. Not with you. Maybe with Simon."

"That bastard." Vaughn muttered. He recalled the burning sensation that had risen up inside of him as he listened to Simon Walker kiss and touch Sydney, and wondering if the other man had ever realized just how beautiful she was, inside and out, and if so, had he ever told her? He had seriously doubted it then, and now, almost two years later, his feelings remained the same.

"When I was on the end of that comm. link, I didn't know if I could take it." He was quiet before chuckling, "You stabbed me."

"Walker would've killed you. I was so afraid I was gonna lose you." She replied mournfully. At her words, Vaughn experienced a slight déjà vu, feeling as if he had had this conversation with her before. Then he recalled the dream he had experienced as he lay in a coma from the stab wound. He had told Sydney how much he missed her, and they had shared a treasured kiss, only for him to awake and realize that it had been no more than a feeble attempt on his brain's part to fill the emptiness inside of him.

"As hard as it was to see you everyday, I couldn't handle never seeing you again. That's why I decided against transferring to San Diego."

"You were going to leave?" he asked incredulously, this truth new to him. She didn't answer him immediately, as the baby in her arms had begun to stir.

"Shhhh…it's alright." Sydney said in a hushed, soothing tone. She rocked the small girl, wrapping the fuzzy pink blanket more tightly around her.

"Remember that time, when I woke up after trying that memory retrieval therapy, and I kissed you? That was the first time considered leaving. I wasn't sure if I could handle being with you, but not being _with_ you. I hating not being able to wish you goodnight, or tell you when I've had a bad day, or a million other things. When I realized I hadn't been dreaming, and that I had actually kissed you, Vaughn, I can't even begin to describe how that moment felt.

_Sydney opened her eyes to see Vaughn sitting beside her bed. The sight of him made her break into a large grin. She had forgotten the warm feeling of waking up and knowing somebody cared about her. _

"Vaughn." She said, relishing the sweet taste of his surname, a term of endearment that she knew made him melt. In response, he joined her on the bed and gave her a smile of his own that caused her heart to pound.

"Help me up." She held out her hands to him, and he took them in his own, lifting her gently. Her smile widened, and she pressed her lips against his warmly, a familiar sensation running down her spine. Vaughn closed his eyes, a mantra rising from somewhere deep inside of him, as if he were coming to life again after two years of being in buried and waiting for her to find him again. His soul began to sing a hidden song for her alone. But still… he placed a hand on her bare shoulder, trying to stifle this feeling of joy, breaking apart the kiss.

"Syd." He whispered his voice full of pain. But hers was light, carefree as she answered him. "I can't help it, I just miss you…I do." 

Her eyes mirrored the longing he felt, and her hand went to his cheek, cherishing the rough stubble, tracing the dip in his chin.

"Syd, you know we can't do this." He prayed that she couldn't see the goose bumps that had risen on his skin from the tender contact. She laughed softly.

"Gimme a break. This is a dream; we can do whatever we want. At least, I can."

He wished her words were true, that they could exist in a realm all of their own, where he could hold her in his arms, kiss her, and return to the world of bliss they had lost.

"No" he whispered, but the sound barely made it past his lips, so he shook his head slightly. That world was gone. Then the door opened, and Sydney's hand fell.

"Your vitals are normal; you're going to be fine. I assume he just told you that." stated an emotionless Jack Bristow. The door shut, jarring her to a cruel reality.

"Vaughn." Now the word left a bitter taste on her lips, as though the taste of him was a scar she would forever carry. Feeling the sting of tears, she turned away, her face a mask of shame. She had just poured your heart out to the one man who could rip it to pieces, no matter how unintentionally.

'He doesn't miss you; his heart doesn't flinch every time your skin brushes his, he doesn't long for you in the middle of the night, Syd. He's fine without you.' she thought, her throat burning as she swallowed.

"Syd, it's okay." He said quietly, hating the lie. It was far from okay. This wasn't they way things should be between them; awkward and uncomfortable. But there was nothing he could say to change that, he realized, and he stood up, leaving her with the tears that had become her twisted lullaby.

"I hated the idea of pushing you away, but I didn't want to hurt you anymore. I was sick of smiling when I felt trapped in my own life, sick of the pain that followed every glance, every conversation. It killed me, the thought of being cruel to you, but I thought it might be easier if you hated me, then I'd be the only one in agony. I told myself you'd find someone else, someone who deserves you, who won't let you down. But when you told me about- about what happened with Will, I realized that even if we both had other people, we would still be haunted by the 'what ifs?', and those relationships wouldn't be one tenth of what we have. I remember thinking, when I married Lauren, 'this is how normal people fall in love. They don't have shootouts on their first dates; they don't kiss in the middle of the rubble from a fallen terrorist organization.' I fell in love with the predictability of my life." He bit his lip, ashamed of the words that he knew were all to true.

She stared at him, knowing that as she said the next few words, they would rip him apart. But they had to be said. "After what happened in North Korea, I lost it Vaughn."  
His pain was evident now, etched into every line of his face. He was at a loss for words, knowing that nothing could make up for what he had done.  
"But I learned to trust you again, love you again. So much happened between us, I didn't know if the damage was repairable."  
"Do you know now? Because if you need time, anything, I'll do whatever it takes Sydney, I vow to you that whatever you need to be happy, I'll do it for you." The confession was pure, and honest, but it was clouded by memories of the past.

"I am so sorry for how much I hurt you." He said aloud, the words sincere, but laden with sorrow. 

"It's over now. Everything's said. Just one thing: Promise me, Vaughn that you won't give up again. Swear to me you'll always be here, that you'll always be in love."

He lifted her chin with his hand, bringing her face level to his. "I swear that I'll never leave again. I'll always be with you Sydney, forever. You and me."

He leaned forward and kissed her softly. There was no overshadowing of guilt anymore, just the dark, but pure honesty that once again defined their love. Sydney smiled at the man who held her past, present, and future, oblivious to the precious object concealed in his pocket, a hidden promise for her alone.


	8. Chapter 8: The Rules of Engagement

Chapter Eight: the Rules of Engagement

Love, Like a River, cuts a new path whenever it meets an obstacle

Vaughn checked his watch. 9:59 PM. He heard footsteps behind him, and a man sat down in Sydney's now vacant seat, engrossed in his newspaper. The digital numbers shifted to form 10:00 PM. 'Right on time, as usual, Jack', thought Vaughn nervously. Mr. Bristow did not acknowledge the younger agent when he spoke, pretending to find an article on carp fishing fascinating.

"Here are the keys to a safe house on 5th street, and to a rental Impala." He set a silver key ring undetected on the cushion. "Your dossiers are in the glove compartment. Where's Sydney?"

Vaughn followed Jack's lead, gazing absent mindedly around the station as he answered, "She's changing the baby."

Jack flipped to the sport section. "APO thought it would be best if I took the child to the safe house and met you there, to avoid any surveillance. We'll rendezvous in the parking garage when Sydney comes back."

He was about to leave, when Vaughn stopped him. "Wait." "This is not the time nor place to dissect the issues of you relationship with my daughter." He stated coolly, but he remained in his seat nonetheless.

"Jack, I'm going to ask Sydney to be my wife, and I wanted to ask for your blessing, because I know it will mean a great deal to her. Now, I know your opinion of me, but Sydney means everything to me."

An expression Vaughn couldn't quite read flitted across the older man's face.

"What makes you think that you are worthy of marrying her?" he answered flatly.

"If it was a matter of worthiness, no man on Earth could ever hope to be good enough." Jack's lips almost formed a smile at the reply.

"Do you love her?"

Vaughn fixed him with a hard stare that reminded Jack of his own.

"Yes, Sir."

Jack returned his gaze, but Vaughn did not back down, accepting the challenge as an equal, and perhaps for the first time, a man in the other's eyes.

"Then take care of her." And he was gone, leaving Vaughn with a grin on his face that was still there when Sydney returned. "What's up?" she asked, studying his expression.

"Nothing, let's go." He took the child's bag from her hand, and she followed him with the baby, in the direction her father had exited.

-------------

The man drove the silver rental car down the familiar path to the safe house. Sydney knew the route well; it was the same place her sister had lived in for a short time. But Vaughn was behind the wheel, and he took and he took an unexpected left turn.

"Vaughn, this isn't the right way."

"It's a detour." He answered, leaving her to wonder. He pulled into a parking space, the pebbles spraying from beneath the tires. Vaughn opened the door for Sydney, taking her hand.

"Vaughn, what's going on?" she inquired as her led her down the jagged steps and down towards the beach. He didn't answer immediately; instead, he took her other hand in his, and stared into her eyes intently. He drew breath, and then began to speak, his words filled with loving sincerity.

"This is the beach where I lost everything. Without you, I was empty, like I wasn't even living. But somehow, you're here with me, and you've given me a second chance. And I promise I'm going to love you for the rest of our lives."

"Oh, my God, Vaughn."

He knelt down, the sand shifting to accommodate his humbling posture. He brought one of her hands to his lips before carefully releasing them as he pulled the black container from the denim of his jeans. Then, as he revealed the small object that the velvet box concealed, he asked in a hushed voice, "Sydney Bristow, will you marry me?" 

The waves crashed onto the shore, gentle foam descending on the couple that was bathed in the soft glow of the stars. She placed her palms to his forearms, lifting him to his feet. She wouldn't let him kneel; not before her. "Yes." She whispered, the single word filling the beautiful silence and sealing their future together. He removed the ring from its case, which he slid back into his pocket, and once again took her hand to slide the platinum band onto her finger, the cool metal that bore a brilliant diamond encircling it perfectly. Their lips met, a sweet longing sweeping through them. Never before had they experienced such a pure sensation, the adoring gesture defining their passionate love. She rested her forehead against his, and he wrapped his arms around her in a tender embrace.

"I love you."

Love was a huge leap, especially after all of the times she had been hurt, but Sydney knew that if she took that risk, made that jump, that Vaughn would be waiting to catch her with open arms. Even though they had sorted things out, their relationship would always be hard. But they would work at it, be strong where the other was weak, and everyday, it would be the two of them, together.

She leaned her head against his shoulder, inhaling the aroma of his cologne. Although they weren't visible in the darkness, they both knew of the tears that streamed down the other's face like gentle rain, appropriate for this clean start. Vaughn had cried at this place before, but now…now she was back in his arms, and he would hold her forever. They stood there for awhile, basking in the moonlight, just being.

"I think your dad's going to be mad if we leave him with the baby for too long."

"I agree." she laughed. He took her hand, lead her up the steps, and they left the beach that had once had so much pain attached to it.

-------------

She sat beside him, and sighed contentedly.

"Did I ever tell you what color your voice is?" she asked quietly, breaking the soft silence.

"What do you mean, Syd?" his eyes were still on the road before them, but they showed his obvious confusion.

"I inherited a condition from my mother, called Synthesia. It's caused by the sensory nerves in the brain, and it causes some of your senses to combine. I have colored hearing, and a colored alphabet, which means sounds and letters have colors for me. Your voice is midnight blue, with white diamonds."

He looked at her, amazed. "How many people have this?"

"Its pretty rare, but most synesthetes are women."

He placed a kiss to the top of her head and whispered, "I knew you were special." only half joking.

She didn't answer, just enjoyed the navy haze flecked with silvery diamonds caused by his words, loving how every time he spoke, she witnessed this, like a piece of the night sky just for her. They pulled up onto the drive, entering the house to join Jack. He was sitting on the sofa, a baby carrier and bag at his feet. He had a wistful expression on his face, as if lost in memory.

"There you are." The look vanished at the sight of his daughter and her fiancé. He noticed the diamond ring on her left hand before continuing.

"Look over those." He nodded to the thick files clutched in Vaughn's hand.

"You'll fly out of here tomorrow. I think you'll be stationed in Illinois." He nodded curtly once more before walking to the door. He opened it, but did not leave immediately.

"Oh, and congratulations." He offered them a small half-smile, and then left the pair to stare in shock. Sydney mad her way to the living room, unbuckled the baby from her child seat, and lifted her carefully, bringing her up the stairs. It didn't take her long to find the large master bedroom where members of the APO team had set up a white wooden crib. Stirring slightly as Sydney set her down, the baby let out a soft whimper, filling Sydney's vision with lavender spirals. After tucking the in the small girl, she sat on the bed and logged onto the laptop computer provided in the room, to make sure that their alias's were secure. A file had already been created; they were a young married couple, Jake and Mia Ryan, and they had just had a baby girl. She frowned at the screen, realizing that the fake birth certificate bore no first or middle name for the baby. 'I guess their leaving that up to us.'

She recalled the color inspired by the small noise of the child, and the perfect name came to mind. Without hesitation, she typed, "Waverly Christine." Just before she shut down the monitor, Vaughn entered the room, and upon glancing at the screen, smiled. "Waverly." He said aloud, the light purple swirls merging with the shade of his voice. "I like it." He said decisively.

"It matches her color."

"What's that?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"Lavender. It's really pretty Vaughn, I wish you could see it." He sat down beside her on the bed as she set the computer aside.

"I do too." He answered, and kissed her gently, filling her world with a midnight haze. She kissed him back, leaning into his embrace, her hands traveling under his t-shirt, which was discarded onto the floor after a clumsy removal. He placed his hands on the small of her back, resting his fingertips underneath the smooth cloth of her shirt, her head pressing against the pillow as she pulled him closer.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, her top joining his. She wrapped her arms around him, longing for his skin on hers. They were tangled in the cream colored comforter, and their legs were intertwined as her jeans left her hips.

Time stood still. It could've been minutes or hours, neither was sure, but neither cared. All that mattered was each other.

Eventually added to the carpet was the rest of their clothing, now the only barrier that kept them apart, emotional or physical.

"I could never describe to you how much I love you." He murmured, before their lips connected once more in fierce passion. She lifted her mouth from his, staring into his eyes.

"Then show me."

He took her in his arms, their lips and tongues crushing once more, and his body entered hers lovingly. She was complete.

--------------------------------------------------------


	9. Chapter 9: Truth Takes Time

Chapter Nine: Truth Takes Time

"The truth. It is a beautiful and terrible thing and should therefore be treated with great caution." Albus Dumbledore  
_  
The small boy whimpered as his arms were thrust upward. The blade of the knife glinted maliciously in the harsh light, before being dragged across both his wrists. The lush crimson line shimmered for a moment, before branching off into several rivulets, pouring down the child's arm. He cried out as he watched the torrent of blood. Sneering, his captures released his mutilated arms, which he pulled to his stomach, shaking convulsively. Then, the woman leered over Vaughn, who was strapped to the gurney beside the small boy. She raised the dagger-_

Vaughn sat up, the thin cotton sheets pooling around his waist. His hands traveled to him face, and his eyes shut tightly, the pressure causing tears to leave them. He felt clammy, and the sheets stuck uncomfortably to his skin. He leaned forward on the bed, scanning the room on his hands and knees for his boxers. Tangling in a heap, he saw his jeans, his belt, and her bra, but his boxers were gone.

"Syd." He whispered, laughing. As if on cue, his fiancé's melodic voice drifted from the adjacent room, mingling with Vaughn's grin widened as he realized that she was singing in the shower, and a voice in the back of his head suggested that he join her. He strode to the wardrobe, past Waverly's crib where she slept soundly after awakening him twice during the night, and pulled on a fresh pair of boxers. Then, he crossed the room in a few short steps, and retrieved his wallet from his pant's pocket. Fumbling, his fingers, found what they were searching for. The photograph was wrinkled and worn, but the image was burned in Vaughn's mind. A man stood on the sand with his two sons, on the beach of Normandy. He was squinting in the sun at his wife, who had taken the snapshot. The crooked smile on his face was mirrored by the four-year-olds perched on each of his shoulders. The boys bore the same angular faces, the identical sandy brown hair, and matching, carefree attitudes. The boy on the left was waving at their mother. Once again, his agonizing cries filled Vaughn's head, and the picture was tucked away, the wallet flung unceremoniously onto the nightstand. The sounds of running water had stopped. He heard something fall to the ground, a soft curse, and then the door opened. He could see past her, through the steam, at the bathroom counter on which lay her top, and his formerly MIA undergarments.

"Boxer thief." He muttered as they shared a soft morning greeting. She grinned, the only reply she would give him before she began to dress.

"Okay, Michael, what's wrong?" she asked, turning to face him after studying his expression in the reflection of the mirror set on the door of the wardrobe as he fastened the hooks of her bra.

"Syd, my name's not Michael Vaughn."

She backed away from him, banging her shoulder painfully on the edge of the wooden door.

"What do you mean?" she cocked her head to the left slightly, a warning glint in her eyes.

"It happened a long time ago, way before we met. Actually, it's the reason we met."

She watched him cautiously, before asking, "I can handle whatever it is. Just don't tell me you're one of the bad guys?"

"It depends on who you ask." He answered truthfully, bracing herself for the terrified look on her face. She stared at him, wide-eyed. 'This has to be a sick joke.' She thought desperately.

"William Vaughn met Amelie Depache in a village in France, Saint Joan." He pronounced the town in its original French, and without his realizing it, the rest of his words gained the accent.

"They fell in love, got married, and about a year later, Amelie gave birth to twin boys. They lived in Saint Joan with fellow followers of Rambaldi. When the boys were about five years old, the followers came across a knife made by Milo himself." His words became choked, the story becoming more painful for him to tell. Sydney stood where she was, unsure if she could trust him.

"It had a silver blade, the tip the shape of the Rambaldi symbol, and a gold handle engraved with these words: Only this will reveal to you the Guardian of the Chosen One, a man born among our own. He will be her strength, yet her weakness, and through an action of utmost love, he will unknowingly aid the Chosen One in bringing about my Coming, for he is my descendant."

Sydney's mind was reeling. What did this mean? But her thoughts were cut short as he spoke again.

"Bill and Amelie were the only followers with children, and the others turned against them. They kidnapped the boys and decided to test them, to find the Guardian, and kill him to prevent the Coming. They slit Mikey's wrists first. He bled so much."

Tears stung his eyes, and Sydney wanted to go to him, hold him tightly, but she knew he had to continue.

"Then, they slit Riley's wrists, but even though the knife cut him, he didn't bleed. Before they could kill him, his parents rescued him and Mike. But their younger son had lost so much blood, he died that night. He was five years old." The tears fell down his cheeks, and he turned away from her.

"Bill and Amelie knew that the believers would kill his twin too, so they wrapped Mikey's bloody bandages around his wrists, and told them…told them that they had killed the Guardian themselves. The followers accepted this, of course, because they wouldn't hesitate to kill a child, why should their friends be any different? They had me take his place. If there's one thing that we have in common, Syd, it's that we both went to our own funerals," he finished darkly, a memory wafting into his head.

_'We are gathered here today to lay Riley Harrison Vaughn in his final resting place. He was taken from us prematurely by a senseless act of violence, and we can only hope that those responsible will be brought to justice.'_ They had stood there, his killers, shedding crocodile tears. They had told his parents how sorry they were for their loss. The thought made Riley want to vomit.

"You said it was the reason we met." Sydney stated softly, moving slightly closer to him.

"Yes, but it doesn't change anything, Sydney. I don't believe in Rambaldi's prophecies. When I found out that we would have access to Arvin Sloane, I begged Devlin to let me become your case officer. I was obsessed with finding any followers, and even if they weren't the ones who had killed my brother, I wanted revenge. You once told me that I saved you from you hatred of Sloane, but you saved me. Sloane had personally taken someone from you, but you weren't controlled by your anger. You reminded me that even though people can do cruel things, there is still good in the world."

Their eyes met, and she knew who he was. He was the man she loved and wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

"Vaughn…" she started, but he silenced her gently by pulling her into his arms.

"You don't have to say anything." She embraced him tightly, his head resting on her shoulder, her arms encircling his back.

"Lay down with me." He whispered, leading her carefully to the bed. She curled up beside him, her bare stomach brushing his.

"Riley?" she called softly, the sound of his name creating scarlet waves that danced with the orange spheres of her own tone. She immediately decided that she loved it. It was his name, his true name, for her alone to whisper.

"MmmHmm" came his reply, the smooth hum reverberating in his chest.

"What did he mean by, 'Through an action of utmost love he will unknowingly aid the Chosen One in bringing about my Coming'?" 

"I don't know, Syd." He answered sleepily, but honestly. She closed her eyes, Rambaldi's words playing through her head. Then, something stirred in her memory, Kendall's shiny yellow voice reciting the words, _"Rambaldi prophesied his Second Coming by way of a child…his child would also be yours."_

Then came the last bit of the prophesy that had caused the death of Vaughn's twin.  
_"He is my descendant."_

The connection was starting to form in her mind, but before she knew it, she had been welcomed into the open arms of slumber.


	10. Chapter 10: Scar Tissue

Chapter Ten: Scar Tissue

Sunday morning rain is fallingSteal some covers, share some skinClouds have shrouded us in moments unforgettable; you twist to fill the mold that I am in Sunday Morning, Maroon5

She didn't know how long she had been lying there, just watching him sleep, her fingers dancing lazily across his spine in a race against a small bead of perspiration. She was in love with everything about him, from the color of his voice, to this bead of sweat, to the rhythm of his breathing. But mostly his warm, caring nature; the naivety of his boyish charm and the depth of his passionate love. So overwhelming, so indescribable, what she felt for him. It was the core of her being. It was who she was. It was the reason that she could give him the entirety of herself. Because when they were apart, the part of her soul that resided within him longed to be completed.

She recalled his confession earlier in the morning:

_"My name isn't Michael Vaughn"_

She had been petrified then, knowing that she couldn't take another betrayal, especially not by him. But he had revealed to her a past that had been marred through no fault of his own, and her heart quaked at the memory of the pain on his face. Her hand traveled to the mattress where his hand lay between them. She lifted it carefully, searching his skin until at last her eyes came across the pale line etched into his wrist. It had faded, and she knew that she wouldn't have been able to detect it had he not told her it was there. She took his hand, intertwining her fingers with his, feeling a ripple of anger and sorrow for what he had suffered. And yet, after all of the cruelty inflicted upon him, he was still the gentle man she had fallen in love with. He was Vaughn.

Glinting in the pale light of mid-morning, the diamond ring she wore caught her eye. She would be his wife. The recollection of his words the night before, as she lay in his arms in the dark, caused her to feel overwhelming joy at his beauty.

_"When we get back from this mission, we'll get married, and I'll buy us a big house with a white picket fence, and a garden and a huge backyard where our kids and grandkids will play, and we'll grow old together."_  
She let a warm smile grace her soft features, one that didn't quite dissipate as she fell asleep once more.

Vaughn opened his eyes sleepily, the face of the woman he loved slowly coming into focus. He brushed her knuckles gently, feeling the cool surface of the jewel she bore on her ring finger. He would be her husband, the father of her children. Thousands of memories of making love to her filled his thoughts, swirling with the almost platonic elation of rediscovering every inch of her. He thought of the children she would someday bear, their life a gift from their undying love and devotion. His hand left hers to trace the small pink arch that was embedded into the otherwise smooth flesh of her stomach, the scar now the only physical evidence of their first child. A familiar dark shadow of guilt enveloped him. He hadn't been there when she needed him. He hadn't saved her from the fire. Now he knew that he hadn't saved _them_. 

"Dad and Mikey are taking good care of our baby." He whispered to her, his fingers brushing the skin he knew so well. He hadn't told Lauren of his harrowing past; somehow he didn't think that she would understand. Every time she had called him Michael had stirred a pang of grief. But somehow, Sydney had hardly used his first name, and he had often debated whether she knew, but had decided in the end that it was just another way she read him perfectly. He lay there, just watching her. Every breath she took causing him to fall further in love, her purity renewing him time and again. She stirred, extending her arms above her head in an almost catlike stretch. Humming slightly, she lifted her face so his, their lips connecting in a soft, yet deep gesture. Her nose brushed his as they broke apart, their bodies and their souls calling out for each other. They knew that they should start on their files while they had the chance, especially since Waverly had been calmed by a bottle a few hours ago, and they had no way of knowing how much longer her slumber would last.

However, longing overtook logic, as her took her hips, his body sliding onto hers, the pressure never forceful or aggressive. Her lips found his, a deep rooted hunger coming over the pair in light of the electric sensation. Her tone legs wrapped around his hips as his fingertips spread, caressing her inner thighs, his thumb brushing the exact spot he knew would make her moan his name into him. Their eyes were closed at their interaction, their touches performed through memory, their lips never parting. Teasingly, his tongue toyed with hers, exploring her. His warm lips traveled down to her neck, pressing fiery expressions of love to the tender surface. She was his, every inch of her body belonged to his: to have and to hold. Clichéd, but a truth that they were both aware of as they gave themselves to each other freely and willingly. Her hands ran down his back, his muscles shuddering pleasantly at her touch.

He placed more kisses down her chest, which was rising and falling with her rapid breaths. His fingertips pressed against her spine as her back arched against the mattress, the tender flesh of his lips coming in contact with the area his fingers had vacated, sending her over the edge. She tugged at the tussled strands of light brown hair, her legs still locked around his torso. As he roamed her skin, he noticed a small nick, a souvenir of a bad encounter with as razor. He kissed it gently, adoring the way her subtle imperfections could never corrupt the image of perfection she was in his mind. The way he felt when he was with her was unmatched by anything any man had ever felt and ever would feel, he was sure. If he was passionate, it was because of the fire she had placed in him. If he was gentle, if was because of her compassion.

Their need for the others touch ran deep, extending into and filling their souls. Not a single kiss was taken for granted. Every moment they were together was committed to memory in remembrance of a time when memories were all they had. His lips once again joined hers, their azure love shining above all. 

-----  
"Vaughn." She whispered. They were separated only by the flimsy sheet, his head resting just above her chest, his arms wrapped warmly around her. "We should start reviewing those dossiers." Neither of them moved, however, as neither possessed the will to. Several minutes later, she attempted again.

"Vaughn, we should get going." He lifted his head immediately, a serious look on his face.

"That's what I've been telling you, Agent Bristow. We need to get to work." He chastised in mock annoyance. She rolled her eyes at him as he reached onto the bedside table and retrieved two thick packets of stapled paper, but to her surprise, he handed her his file while taking hers in his own hands. He glanced down at it, skimming the first paragraph. Then, as he sat beside her, his lips brushed her ear as he whispered,

"You were born Mia Jo Howard, but after being confirmed at Saint John Church in Chicago, and marrying me in the very same place, you are Mia Jo Justine Ryan."

She shifted her head until their lips were a breath apart. "Jacob Zachary Peter Ryan. You had your 31st birthday last month on the 12th, and your parents, Linda and Ted, live in Key West."

They continued this playful, yet torturous way of securing their alias's, taking turns to reveal a bit of information about the other's new identity. They were both only children, whose parents no longer lived in Penbrook, Illinois, a small Chicago land community where they had grown up. They were also both raised in devoutly Catholic households, and attended parochial schools through college, where they had met. Both graduates of St. Xavier University, she had been an English major, and both had gone to school to teach primary education. He however, had majored in- 

"Art?" Sydney frowned at the packet in her hands, as though she could be reading it wrong.

"Let me see that." he said, snatching the packet lightly from her hands. His face fell, and she began to giggle.

"Did you take an art class in college?" she managed to choke.

"It was a blow off class!" he protested, disbelief causing his brow to furrow.

"Well, it looks like you'll be an art teacher. Do we need to but you a beret? But no, being French, you probably already have one." She teased.

"An art teacher?" he groaned.

"Aw, cheer up, you were first in your class." She mocked, looking back at the file. He shook his head, reluctantly accepting his fate, and they continued their tender game. This process was taking longer than it would have normally, but Sydney reasoned that she would have a better recollection of words Vaughn had whispered against her skin than ones she had read off of a page.

"We had Waverly at…" he quizzed.

"Trinity hospital," She answered, her nose grazing his.

"I think we've finally got this down." He took the files and once again discarded them onto the bedside table, and took her into his arms. She rested in his lap, her legs tucked behind her. His lips brushed the top of her head, placing a small kiss to her hair.

"Syd, do you believe in God?" he questioned softly. She looked up at him surprised.

"Our alias's, they're Catholics. Do you believe in God?" he repeated quietly. She was silent in a pensive moment.

"I wasn't raised in a very religious family. I was baptized, but my parents never took me to church. I don't know much about God, but you're here with me, and look at all the insane things we've survived. I don't know, that just kind of makes me think that their must be someone watching out for us."

He nodded slowly, and then pulled her closer, just holding her. He hadn't ever been a spiritual man, but if God had given him Sydney, then who was he to be a cynic? Abruptly, she sat up, startling him.

"I forgot. Last time I fed Waverly, I used the last of the formula." She explained, and stood, the sudden absence of her weight slightly upsetting the balance. He watched her dress, simply taking in her beauty. Movements so graceful, features so angelic, he was sure that she was heaven sent. He untangled himself from the cotton sheet, and joined her to clothe himself as well, as it was already midday. His torso flexed as he pulled a simple gray t-shirt over it and she turned away, trying to ignore the longing that was growing. After fastening her jeans, she mustered some ounce of self control, and rounded to face him.

"It's just a quick run to the store, I'll be back soon." She offered him a chaste kiss before grabbing the keys to the rental and heading down the stairs, knowing that if she didn't leave now, she might not make it out.

'Out of all of the bizarre situations, this is definitely not one I predicted: buying formula for Julian Sark's child.' She mused as she started up the car.

Vaughn sat in the kitchen, a bone white coffee mug perched on the island he was leaning against as he pretended to peruse a newspaper. His mind was elsewhere however, as he tried to ignore the slightly deflated feeling he got whenever they parted. His heart swelled with memories of the previous night, reveling in the dark beauty of making love to her. He pushed these thoughts aside, physically forcing his eyes to decipher the words on the paper.

INFANT DIES FROM SIDS

He frowned and bit his lip. Vaughn knew about Sudden Infant Death Syndrome, but he had never really thought about it: until now. Worriedly, he craned his neck towards the stairs, straining for any sound; nothing. He dropped the newspaper, the pages scattering on the tile and crumpling beneath his stride as he hurried to the stairs, tripping during his frantic ascent. He pushed the door aside and peered over the white railing, his fingers clutching at the polished wood surface. Waverly was lying on her side, sucking lightly on her rose colored knuckles. He watched her pastel colored sleeper rise and fall with her speedy breathing, causing the fuzzy pink blanket, now the only thing besides her very life that she could trace back to her mother, to slip off of her stomach and become slack around her legs. Laughing at his own panic, he turned to leave. But if he was downstairs, how could he really be sure that she was alright?

He glanced nervously back at the crib, then lifted her gently. He couldn't remember the last time that he had held a baby, but she fit perfectly into his arms. She whimpered at the disturbance, but he pulled her closer, comforting her with a soft whisper.

"Shhhh…Waverly, il est bien, je vous ont. Allez de nouveau au sommeil, vous sont sûrs."

She rested her head sleepily against his chest, closing her sapphire eyes once more. A tiny hand set itself against his cheek, her pudgy fingers transferring some of her baby drool onto his skin. The gesture seemed to be a need for some assurance of human contact in a world that had already done her so much injustice, her action stirring a precious memory he held of a dark night on a pier. His thumb brushed warm strands of chestnut colored hair as he rocked her slowly. In that moment, she became more than just a charge for him to keep watch of, more than just the daughter of his enemy. She was just a little girl, in need of his protection, his care, and above all, his love, all the things that her biological father could never, would never provide. She needed him to be that for her. She needed a daddy.

The sound of a key scratching in a lock caused his head to turn towards the source of the noise.

"Vaughn." Sydney called, the sound of a grocery bag being set down overlapping with her words. "My dad called. We leave in half an hour."  
-----------------------------------------------


	11. Chapter 11: A Phoenix Rises

1

Chapter Eleven: A Phoenix Rises

Boys would be gone without warmth from a woman's good, good heartDaughters, John Mayer

Sydney took a sip of her coffee, grimacing at the bitter taste. She much preferred tea, or better yet, hot chocolate, but she had to drink coffee before missions. It was a stimulant, and therefore, dulled the effects of Synthesia, in case of a firefight, where her gift could become a fatal distraction. Not that she thought they would be attacked, but then again, she hadn't thought that Sark would break into that hospital.

"So what's in Illinois anyway?", asked Vaughn, bringing her out her thoughts.

"Corn…baseball…pizza?" she offered.

"Wow, sounds exciting. And to think we would have missed all that if we had been sent to New Zealand, or Paris, or Hawaii."

She sucked down another sip of the scalding beverage before saying, "You know, they're saying this year is _THE YEAR _for the Cubbies."

He laughed. "I hope we don't stay in Penbrook long enough to see _THE YEAR _. I would like to leave before Hell freezes over."

"Oh, don't let anyone there hear you say that. They might sic their cows on you."

They grinned, their banter relaxing the tense moods always brought on by an assignment.

"I'll go ask the pilot when we land." He stood and passed her to exit the cabin. Her attention turned now to the child seat strapped in beside her and she saw Waverly yawn before opening her baby blue eyes, squinting the adjust to the light. She had been her guardian for a grand total of two days, but from the moment she laid eyes on her, she had been captivated by this little person. Maybe it was the pang in her heart, the ever present pain she still carried, even after four years. The pain that had had eaten away at her heart like a cancer, its blackened claws embedding themselves deeper into her fragile soul every time she saw that horrible scar, her child's legacy. It was the ache of a motherhood that had ended prematurely, replacing all of her hope and joy for the baby she carried with an emotional scar, one that she had been sure was becoming physical during the year after her resurrection, exposing its ugly face to the world. But Waverly had restored that nurturing love, and the stain on her heart was slowly dwindling, overcome by a new, pure sensation: closure.

"Good morning, Beautiful." she whispered, kissing her forehead gently as the small baby stuck her left hand into her mouth, drooling onto her fingertips. Sydney smiled, releasing the buckles to lift Waverly into her arms, and suddenly, she was reminded of a lullaby sung to her by the deep voice of an older Bristow, the words never heard by her since her mother's initial disappearance.

A voice from behind her joined the song, the melody sweet and low.

"Smile, my honey dear, as I kiss away each tear, or else I shall be melancholy too."

"We land in twenty minutes."

She smiled at him as he sat down once more.

"My dad loved that song." She stated softly.

"Jack?" he asked, eyebrows arched.

"Yea, believe it or not." They fell silent, their minds busied with the vision of Agent Bristow singing. She recalled the kind of father he had been, and what caused him to become so cold. She thought of Vaughn, and what a great father he would be, remembering coming back to the safe house to find him rocking the baby gently in his arms, an affectionate smile on his lips that was illuminated in his verdant eyes. Glowing at the prospect, she mused that one day she would carry his child again.

"Penny for your thoughts." He teased.

"We have a baby." She whispered incredulously, the revelation overcoming the pair, no words escaping them. They looked at the infant she held. The same eyes of a foe they detested looked up at them, but they were different: innocent and pure, unmarred by hatred and violence. Syd had often wondered what she would be like as a mother. After the loss of her first child, she swore that she would not bear another, knowing that it could not be his as well. But things were different now, things were better, and she knew by his words and actions in L.A. that he too mourned the baby that had been taken so cruelly.

Yet, in the midst of their new found grief, they had been given Waverly to watch after, a baby for them to raise, to love, even if it was only temporary. After CRF was taken down, Waverly would become a ward of the state, the only evidence of her foster parents being her name. She was too young, she would forget them, and would pass out of their lives like other had before. They had no way of knowing how long this mission would last, and it could be years before it was safe for Waverly to come out of hiding. They would watch her grow, care for her, only to have her taken away when the danger passed.

But Sydney wasn't thinking of any of this. No, instead she was lost in the happiness of the moment, the hope for the future. They had reached a place of bliss and near perfection.  
-----

"That was the last box." Vaughn announced triumphantly, joining Syd to load the ramp back into the moving van. They watched it away, wiping sweat from their brows in Mid-June heat. To make their identities more plausible, they had spent all day outside actually moving cardboard boxes full of clothing, movies, CDs, cutlery, dishware, and books into the house in the small Illinois suburb that they were renting by the month for "as long as needed." Waverly was asleep in the bassinet hastily erected in the nursery, as Vaughn had yet to assemble the crib.

Vaughn bent slightly so he could literally swept Sydney off her feet, lifting her into the air with energy had not seemed to posses while carrying bulky wooden crib railings up a flight of stairs. She laughed at his romantic gesture, the sweetness of the sound intensifying the loving behavior.

"What are you doing?" she asked, as she wrapped her arms around his neck, his right arm hugging her legs to his chest to ensure their stability.

"Is this not a threshold?" he retorted, indicating the open doorway with a small jerk of his head.

"Yes." She admitted.

"Well alright then, no more stupid questions." They stepped inside, Vaughn closing the door behind them by leaning his back against the wooden surface, his arms full of Sydney. He carried her laboriously up the stairs, not because he had difficulty lifting her, but because the soft mixture of shampoo and sweat he inhaled as she rested her head below his chin was making it hard for him to focus. They entered their new bedroom, settling onto the mattress that was placed upon the bed frame, the sheets and pillows buried in one of the many tan cubes that lined the walls of every room.

He let out an exhausted sigh. "I don't want to see another box ever again." He exclaimed as they sprawled themselves into lying positions. She lifted her head and stretched her limbs before turning to face him and closing the gap between them. He was on his back, arms raised above his head, eyes closed. She brushed a few locks of hair from his forehead before calling his name softly.

"Yea?" he answered sleepily, opening his eyes to look at her.

"You know those boxes that you never want to see again?" she questioned grimly.  
"They still have to be unpacked."

---

"Cheater!"  
"How did I cheat?"

"Your partner didn't jump on you were trying to smash your boulder!"

"It's not my fault you were partnered with Princess Peach."

"It's not mine!"

"Yes it is, you both landed on a red space."

"So it's my fault that the dice block was on a four when Yoshi jumped?"

"Who was it that made him jump?" she pointed out as he sulked.

They were seated on the plush maroon carpet of the front room, leaning against the oak coffee table clutching faux metallic controllers, a jar of peanut butter and a Hershey's bar on the floor between them. She broke a rectangle off of the slab of chocolate and dipped it into the jar, lifting it to his lips. He accepted this peace offering graciously, his tongue ridding her fingertips of any last traces of the sticky beige substance.

"Your turn." She reminded him, glancing back at the TV screen where a rotating die had appeared over the green dinosaur's head. They had, after a strenuous and violent battle, relieved those stubborn containers of their contents, the victorious party now celebrating with sweet indulgences that they had claimed from the clutches of their foes, who now sat stacked in the garage beside a silver Chevy Cavalier, their limp forms evidence of the struggle.

"Damn it!" Sydney swore angrily as the impudent mushroom she was playing as took its turn, landing one blue circle short of the star space. The mini-game roulette appeared on the screen as all four players, two human; two automated, had completed their turns. The flashing beam landed on the words, "Catch You Letter."

"Yes! This is the one where you chase the Russian." She cheered, sneaking a double dip into the peanut butter jar while Vaughn' eyes were on the image before them.

"It's not a Russian, it's a Shy Guy." He corrected as he flipped through the rules of the chosen game by clicking the "R" button.

"He has a red coat with a black belt over it, a blue hat, and it really pasty. He's Russian."

She pressed the grey start button, ending the conversation on her own terms.

"Hey, I didn't get to finish reading how to play!" he protested.

"Boo hoo." Came her oh-so-sympathetic answer, her gaze fixated on the game.  
"Now you really are a cheater." He grumbled, maneuvering his joystick to intercept a small white rectangle meant to symbolize an envelope.

"Opportunist." She argued, her vest clad toadstool snatching a pink, heart sealed envelope just before his red saddled turtle/dinosaur mutant could.

"Hey!"

He had placed his character between hers and the "Russian" Shy Guy so that she could not deliver the letter and receive due points.

"That's not fair! Yoshi's bigger than Toad!" she whined as he blocked another of her futile attempts.

"Who said you had to be the fungus?" he answered, finally relenting, opting instead to chase the round, fanged, ghost away from a letter he wanted to retrieve. Just then, soft wailing could be heard from the nursery.

Syd paused the game, stepping over the cords that kept the silver Game Cube running.

"Don't you dare touch anything." She warned, as she headed towards the kitchen, her bare feet padding across the linoleum. She took a small plastic bottle filled with off white liquid from the refrigerator, along with a ceramic Campbell's Soup mug from the wooden cabinet. She ran the faucet until the water was hot, then filled the mug halfway, placing the formula in the substance to heat. Setting it on the counter, she let the item be as she exited the kitchen to climb the stairs, passing Vaughn as she did so, laughing as she saw that he was rooting through the plastic jar, presumably for a fragment of chocolate that had been swallowed not by his mouth, but by the sweet tan abyss.

Their bedroom was to the left, along with the adjoining bathroom. Directly ahead was an office room, then another bathroom, and finally, to the right, Waverly's room.

"Wavy" she called softly, peering through the doorway, and then stepping onto the fluffy pink carpet. It was the perfect choice for the nursery, from the floor where she stood, whose shade matched the tone of the walls and curtains, to the large window that overlooked the fenced in expanse of lush green grass that was dotted by magnolia trees in full bloom, their blossoms dusting their branches like fragrant snowflakes in the lazy breeze of the summer night.

She lifted the infant from the bassinet, trying to console her as her milk warmed. She descended the staircase with the baby in her arms, her fussing becoming less intense, but nonetheless constant, dimming from deep purple to light violet in Sydney's eyes.

Vaughn watched as she reached the kitchen, shaking the bottle free of moisture before offering it to Waverly. He felt a smile spring from his heart and form on his lips. Beneath the façade of their marriage, this house, their relation to this baby, lay the foundation of something so pure, that once the falseness and deceit were brushed aside, love was the remainder. It mattered not her true parentage, their real names, and real lives, for nothing could mar the immaculacy of this scene. This was the essence of life itself, a mother nurturing a helpless child, her beautiful, gentle soul providing warmth and light from the core of innocence within each woman: A mother's love.


	12. Chapter 12: Unvoiced Decisions

Chapter Twelve: Unvoiced Decisions

Loving might be a mistake, but it's worth making I Hope You Dance, Lee Ann Womack

Vaughn opened his eyes, cringing at the sting of the green numbers that told him he should still be asleep. This was the second time in the hour that Waverly's cries had awoken him, and he knew he would feel tired and groggy once he would rise for good. It didn't help that even when the baby was asleep, he would become worried and uneasy, leaving the warm bed to make sure she was alright. Professional paranoia, that was all, he had told himself.

"I'll get her." he heard Sydney mumble sleepily.

"No, its fine, I'll get her." he reassured her. Neither moved.

"I'm serious, I'll get the baby." Sydney shifted as she said this, one foot leaving the bed to rest on the floor, but that was as far as she moved.

"You got her last time, I'll get her, you sleep." he ordered in what was meant to be a firm tone, but, because of his exhaustion, it came out garbled with a yawn. Finally, after a few moments of a combating his lethargic body, he untangled his legs from the covers to stand, ignoring the dull ache as his sleep-stiffened muscles protested.

He rubbed his eyes as he crossed the maroon hall carpet, the cool surface of the ersatz wedding ring he now wore awakening his senses. He paused for a moment where the deep red threads met rose colored ones beneath his feet and stared proudly at his handiwork. A few days after they had finished unpacking, he had felt brave enough to tackle the crib, and, following an extensive amount of swearing in French and English, a nasty cut from a jagged spring, much laughter on Sydney's part, and more than a few dozen retries, the wretched thing had been assembled, complete with teething rails, a kick bar to lower the sides, a mobile, and a frilly, Winnie the Pooh crib liner. He reached over the railing to lift the fussing child into his arms, and her mood lightened considerably.

"So that's what this was really about; you just wanted to be held. I told Syd she was spoiling you." He spoke in the soft voice he unintentionally adopted whenever he addressed her, and she always quieted to his voice as if intent on listening to every word he said, although she didn't understand. He sat down in the mahogany rocking chair and reached beneath the Pooh Bear lampshade, twisting the knob with a jerk of his thumb and forefinger to bring a soft illumination to the room. He was so small that he could hold her in one arm, and she let out a tiny yawn before snuggling against his chest. He could feel her rapid little heartbeat, and he knew he was falling in love with this tiny person. But he couldn't. He let out a sad sigh.

"Waverly, we can't keep you." he pleaded. At the sound of his voice, he looked up at him, blinking innocently with those beautiful round blue eyes.  
"Don't look at me like that." he protested, feeling his will bend and crack as he desperately avoided any attachment. Because he knew that if he and Sydney couldn't keep their relationship with Waverly professional, parting with her would be unbearable. He had seen Sydney's resolution breaking, and he knew that he needed to stay strong. But the more he tried to avoid making this personal, the more he thought about how long he and Sydney had wanted to raise a child together, and now, _this was their chance _. His thoughts kept revolving on the unborn child they had never had the opportunity to see or know. The news of this loss was still recent to him, but the wound ran deep, his soul sensing the tragedy before his mind had been informed of it. He had been torn of his right to fatherhood before he could be blessed with it, and his wounded heart needed to fill the aching abyss where he was left empty. His desire to care for this child ran deeper than the want to protect her; he _needed _to nurture her, he _needed _to help her grow.

Because it was in giving of the paternal love that he had been ripped of the opportunity to share with his first child that he would finally heal, the gaping chasm left from where he had been scared would now be bridged by his ability to father Waverly. Then, she too would be stolen away from him, and his heart would bleed even more profusely.

It was a never ending cycle in his head and heart. If he gave in, let himself love her, he would finally, gloriously, heal. But loving her would mean that when they parted, the hole she had filled would be re-opened and widened, his heart bleeding until he didn't know if he would be able to give of that love again. He knew from the moment he became her guardian that their time together would someday, abruptly, end, and that this was a doomed relationship from the beginning, but his resistance was weakening, succumbing to the beautiful prospect of raising this child as his own.

He rocked forwards. _You've been given a daughter to love. _He rocked backwards. _She'll be taken from you, just like the first baby. _He rocked forwards. _I won't let them take her. _He rocked backwards. _You have no choice, she doesn't belong to you. _He rocked forwards. _She belongs with me; with Sydney. She's our child-No, she's a Ward of the State. _The rocking increased, his eyes never leaving those of the little girl that was causing so much turmoil.

Finally, he stopped, planting his feet firmly on the carpeted floor. _Was he afraid to love because he was afraid to lose? _No, that couldn't be; he loved Sydney knowing all too well that this job could take her from him. "Why?" a voice demanded, forcing Vaughn to examine his every fear; hesitation; worry in order to find answers. Because loving Sydney hadn't been a decision. It had happened out of everyone's control and consent. Then he realized that fear of loving Waverly wouldn't stop him from loving her, just destroy him as he tried not to. It wasn't his choice to make. It had already happened.

He let a soft smile grace his lips, and then her expression changed to imitate his. She was smiling at him! Laughing loudly at nothing, he stood, the rocking chair swaying backwards for the final time, and then he raised her into the air, lifting her above his head in a joyous celebration. He was no longer afraid.

Once again, he took her closely to him, humming a soft, undefined tune just for her. He felt impossibly light, the burden of the doubt he had bourn had been diminished, and now he was focused on the present, the here and now, the time he did have with Waverly. And now he concentrated on the task at hand: getting her back to sleep.His thumb gently stoked her cheek in a steady, comforting motion, and soon her eyes slipped closed. Careful not to jostle her, he slid back into the rocking chair, his tired back resting against the sturdy curved back. She wrapped a tiny fist around one of his fingers and hugged it to her body. He felt his eyelids fall shut, welcoming him into a peaceful and well earned slumber, his mind relaxing after the whirring and churning of thought minutes before.

When he awoke, the tip of his right index finger was wrinkled and wet, signs that a Waverly had stuck it in her mouth, and he could hear voices downstairs. He shifted his hold on his daughter so that her head rested on his shoulder, her body supported by the gentle pressure of his hand on her back. The distance from the nursery to the hall where lay the top of the stairs was quickly crossed by his confident strides and he descended the staircase, passing the front room to enter the kitchen. Sydney stood leaning against the cabinets, a cup of tea in one hand, the other drumming lazily on the slippery surface of the countertop behind her as she listened to the man and woman beside her. Then, they spotted Vaughn.

"Jake, honey, these are the Davidsons. They live next door." Sydney's tone was pleasant enough, but Riley knew her too well. There was something in her eyes that told him she wanted to introduce Mr. and Mrs. Happy Homemaker to some of her more intricate Krav Maga techniques.

"Hi." he said, giving the trio a cheerful smile.


	13. Chapter 13: Gifts and Curses

Chapter Thirteen: Gifts and Curses

"Of all the rights of women, the greatest is to be a mother." : Lin Yutang

The rounded metal tab pierced the thin silver disc that protected the powerful liquid the thin cylinder contained. Sydney stared at the vibrant vial doubtfully, wondering if the results the substance would yield were worth the actions needed to employ their effects. Then, she recalled with a shudder, the neon pink smudge that had plagued her vision, and without further deliberation, raised the scarlet and azure can of Red Bull to her lips, and downed half the contents. Overly sweet to the point of acidic liquid filled her mouth and coated her throat, producing a sting to match even the hardest of liquor. She coughed, sputtering, and then braced herself against the cool edge of the sink in the kitchen of what was now her home. She glared at the bottle in her fist, knowing that she needed to finish drinking it if she wanted to last the day. The beverage fizzed and burned her lips, the feeling not a pleasant one, but she drained the aluminum container. She closed her eyes, hoping her efforts weren't in vain. _One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three Mississippi. Four Mississippi._ She let her count ascend until it had amounted to a sufficient number. Opening her eyes, she adjusted to the changes caused by the stimulant.

"Vaughn?" she called, exiting the kitchen and passing through the living room. The red orbs of her voice appeared, dancing in the air with the golden brown haze of his name, but they seemed faint, and distant, colors faded and quantity reduced. Perfect.

"In here" she heard Vaughn answer her summons from the nursery where he was feeding Waverly. That was her only regret about using the stimulating chemicals in the energy drink to tone down her Synthesia. It meant dulling the colors she loved as well as the ones she despised. But every time she heard that voice…

She shook her head as if to dislodge any remaining thoughts on the matter, and climbed the steps, turning down the short hall that led to the upper floor. Stepping into the doorway of the pastel room, she saw Vaughn cradling their child as she finished feeding. He lifted the plastic bottle from her, a small off-white ring at its base the only remainder of the formula. Waverly made a small noise that sounded like a frustrated grunt as she reached for, but missed by a great length, the empty container. Sydney smiled but felt a pang of loss as she noticed the flat shade of pale purple that her daughter's sounds had produced. Sometimes she wished that she could choose which sound's colors she saw. But no matter, the drink would wear off, and she would once again witness her world in the vibrant shades her loves' voices painted.

"It's all gone, Waves, there's no more" Vaughn laughed, setting the bottle down beside the Pooh Bear lamp after another misjudged attempt to reclaim the item. He smiled at Syd. "So what is this thing we're going to?"

She sighed, taking Waverly into her arms and setting her on the changing table. "It's a Fourth of July barbeque." She rolled her eyes as she began to change the baby into the clothes for the party.  
"Uh huh. And _why_ are we going to this thing?" He leaned against the rail of the crib, observing her actions. "I think you'll find that it's your fault, Jacob."

"How long have you been married?" "Was there good weather for the ceremony?" "How old is the baby?" "Where did you find such a unique name?" "How long were you in labor?" "How big was she when she was born?"

The questions swam around her brain, prodding it for answers that she choked out in the fewest words possible. "Seven pounds, seven ounces, 22 inches long" she rattled off, hoping that would be a sufficient reply to the latest query.

"And she was on time?" her torturer asked, as her husband looked on curiously. Sydney opened her mouth, prepared to give a one word answer when Vaughn appeared, carrying a sleeping Waverly. Her guardian angel indeed. She was quick with the introductions, and then spotted the perfect excuse to get away. "If Waverly's sleeping, I'll take her back upstairs."

Vaughn clutched his baby protectively, understanding that if she left, he would be alone with their perky suburban neighbors. This was beginning to feel like Liberty Village, minus the terrorists. Although, he added in a quick afterthought, they looked like they could give that entire community of psychopaths a run for their illegally laundered money.

"It's fine, I'll take her" he said pleasantly, moving to leave the kitchen, but she blocked him. She wasn't giving up that easily.

And yet, today, she was going to spend a day at their home as if they were the best of friends. "If you hadn't gotten us invited…" she trailed off, her tone disapproving as she finished snapping the pant legs of the tiny jean overalls Waverly now donned, applying a smear of sunscreen to her fair skin be4fore placing a red, white, and blue striped bucket hat atop the curly coco locks that framed her chubby face. Waverly shook her head violently in an attempt to regain her sight as the hat slipped and covered her eyes, obstructing her view. Her actions caused Vaughn to laugh and straighten the askew cap, and Waverly giggled, a skill she had just recently acquired in her fifth week of life, adding to the charm that had already enthralled her foster parents.

"Look on the bright side, it's free food" he pointed out, lifting his blue-eyed beauty from the changing table as he spoke.  
"You sound like Weiss."

"And they have a pool" he reminded her. That point conjured images of herself and Vaughn trying to rival the Davidsons and their other neighbors in a water volleyball match.

"Let's just hope the food is good" she concluded, lifting Waverly's diaper bag and heading out the door, every step bringing her closer to the hue she hated. They headed down the stairs, and down into the front room. As the wooden door opened, a wave of humid July air assaulted the trio, enveloping them as they stepped out onto the porch. Vaughn held Waverly against his shoulder as they crossed gentle kselly green of their grass to the lush emerald blades that were meticulously mowed: the Davidsons' lawn. A faded rainbow of laughter, splashing, clattering and conversation swam across Sydney's vision. Red squares, ebony hazes, and grey squiggles bounded lazily through the warm summer atmosphere, but less enthusiastically then they would have, had they not been tampered with. They could see past the little white picket fence that, at the party, small children giggled an ran, crossing the perfect turf, past teens playing Bacci ball and bean bags, while others swam in the large in-ground pool attached to the auburn stained deck. Others ate while sitting beneath large colorful umbrellas, and among them, Ashley Davidson, who waved them over with an eager hand. Syd reluctantly unlatched the gate, walking through it with Vaughn close behind and heard it click shut, trapping them there. They passed a small vegetable garden, then a flowerbed bursting with pansies and petunias, their colors as shockingly vibrant as the voice of their gardener.

"Mia, Jake, so glad you could come" cooed Mrs. Davison, a sugary smile playing upon her lips. Sydney forced a smile of her own, replying with a fake, "Thank you so much for inviting us." Ashley led them across the brick patio to where three men and two women stood, one man that Sydney recognized as Joshua Davidson tending the grill.

"Everyone, this is Mia and Jake Ryan, and their little girl Waverly. They just moved in next door." The others turned at her announcement, greeting them with a chorus of, "So nice to meet you-We live in the yellow house-What an adorable baby." They responded with nods and smiles, shaking hands when necessary. They were led towards the food table and encouraged to help themselves as their hosts welcomed more guests. Sydney took Waverly from him as he filled their plates, and she took the time to scan their surroundings for quick exit ways, being sure to memorize every detail of each party-goer.

"I don't think anyone here is a threat to national security. Unless keeping your lawn insanely perfect is an act of terrorism" she heard Vaughn kid from behind her, leading her to a small table where he had placed their food.

"Hey, they say Congress is drafting the bill as we speak" she defended, taking a bite of her perfectly grilled hot dog with a streak of ketchup, adjusting her hold on Waverly so that the baby was seated comfortably on her lap. The little girl sat contentedly, occasionally babbling a string of non-coherent syllables, pleased with the sound of her own voice.  
"So our interview is next week" Sydney announced nonchalantly, tickling the toes of the cooing baby. Vaughn choked on his mouthful of mustard, hotdog, bun, and dill relish.  
"What?" he exclaimed, wiping a bit of mustard from his chin as he stared at her incredulously.

"Our interview, at St. Michael's Academy, where, hopefully, we'll be teaching for the next year" she clarified, as Waverly burbled with delight.

"Which means we need to prepare our resumes soon" she said pointedly, and he caught her drift-they would need to access their files for this mission and compile data to back their alias's up.

"Jake" she started quietly in the same toned she used when murmuring his surname. She placed a kiss to one of Waverly's chubby hands, and she turned the infant around to study her as she fumbled for the right words. She looked like an angel, her crystal blue eyes sparkling with laughter, her cheeks round and rosy, her small lips parted in a smile. _How could this little person be so…perfect?_ He waited, knowing not to rush her by the town look on her face. His hand covered hers as she struggled, studying the beautiful baby girl she held: precious life that she had once hoped to create.

"I need to tell you something. I-"

"Isn't she an angel?" A smear of dulled carnation pink marred Sydney's vision as Ashley and a gaggle of other women accosted them, crowding to get a better look at the baby. The pack admired and fawned over Waverly as Ashley began, once again, bombarding the startled couple with questions. They answered each question calmly, but with a growing uneasiness as every aspect of their façade was prodded in search of weaknesses or inconsistencies. Vaughn sighed, relieved, as their neighbor departed, finally satisfied with their identities. A weary Sydney glanced his way, Waverly in her lap, and they shared a similar thought: the interview would be a piece of cake compared to what they had just been through.  
-----

He sat in solitude, his frustration evident as he swiveled in the upholstered chair that paired with the desk he sat in front of in the den beside his and Sydney's bedroom. The sketchbook dangled, lifeless from his right hand, as a pencil twirled idly in his dominant one. After two hours of compiling information with his fiancé, they had both created solid, substantial resumes to hand in to the school. Then Vaughn had hit a glitch: as an art teacher, he would need to submit a piece of artwork. Sydney had left him alone so he could "find inspiration" as she put it, and was playing with Waverly in the nursery. He ran his fingers through his disheveled hair, sighing, irritated. What the hell was he supposed to draw? He hated still lifes-his life was anything but still. He was terrible at landscapes, and abstract wasn't really his style.

"Then what is my style?" he growled with impatience as the chair finished another rotation. Realizing that he was getting nowhere, he stood, abandoning the dark and serious room to cross to the light and soft rose décor of their baby's room. He stepped inside it, engulfed by its serenity, and he opened his mouth to speak when the sight before him stilled his tongue.

The pink sheer curtains had been pulled aside, the gentle rays of the setting sun creating a peach veil over everything in the room as it filtered through the large picture window. But it was the vision of the two inhabiting the window seat that took his breath away. Sydney sat, her back resting on the side of the small alcove, her knees hugged close to her chest, a renegade lock of auburn hair, spun with gold in the delicate light, fell to cover her face as she slept, Waverly slumbering in her arms. The little girl's russet curls edged her chubby face that was nestled in her mother's chest, and he let out a tender laugh as her soft snoring reached his ears. He sat before them on the plush carpet, taking in the beauty of the stolen moment.

Pencil met paper, and soon the page was filled with the beginnings of his masterpiece. Light grey and deep ebony wove across the once blank surface, layers of life and love. His fingers lead the pencil to depict the curves and angles of his loves' faces as only he knew them, each detail meticulously sketched, needing to capture their exact splendor. The slightest mistakes were scoured from the picture as he strove to display the scene of perfection he gazed upon. As the drawing neared completion, Sydney awoke but quickly feigned slumber so that she could watch him work. He studied them without moving for long periods at a time, and then the pencil would fly furiously across the notebook. His forehead wrinkles were furrowed, his eyes scrunched in concentration, and his tongue protruded slightly from the left corner of his pursed lips. Then, his movement stopped, his entire being stilled, taut with tension as he scrutinized his work. The eraser flitted momentarily across a section, then he paused once more. A satisfied smile: it was complete.

It was then that Sydney opened her eyes, eager to see his work. Waverly, still asleep, grunted in disapproval of the movement, and was laid gently in her crib.

"Can I see?" Sydney asked softly as she sat beside Vaughn on the thick pink carpet. He handed the sketchbook to her, shyly, and she let out a gasp.

"Vaughn…this is…incredible!" she whispered, darting over the page as his pencil had. She took in the careful shading and intricate attention to every detail in surprise.

"How come you never told me you can draw like this?" she asked accusingly.

"I haven't done it in awhile" he defended.

"It's beautiful" she hushed, staring at the picture of the baby sleeping in her arms. There was so much love, even in her slumber, as her face tilted towards the little girl's. _A mother's love._

"Syd?"

Vaughn set the drawing aside, brushing a strand of hair from her face. She looked down at her lap where her hands fidgeted nervously.  
"I was going to tell you earlier today. It wasn't the right time or place, but I was afraid that if I didn't say it then, I would never get it out." His eyes struggled, trying to search hers for her words, but she diverted them.

"Do you remember the night before we got Waverly? What you said when we made love?"

"Of course, Syd" he answered, stilling her hands with one of his own.

"It made me think…made we wonder if we would ever have another baby. Bur I wasn't sure if I could again, after what the Covenant did. I couldn't sleep, I kept thinking about it. So while you were asleep, I went to see the APO doctor and had him run some tests." His hand gave hers a gentle squeeze of reassurance, needing to know the rest.

"Last night, I logged onto the APO server to check in and I noticed that Doctor Jain had sent me the results." She took a shuddering breath, pulling her hands from under his. Her voice was thick, laden with the emotion creeping into her throat and glistening in her eyes. His heart ached with the truth that it already knew to be true, but his head stubbornly protested that there was a chance.

"Vaughn…" His name was an unsteady whisper, and then the rest of the words poured out in a somber release. "We can't-I can't have kids."

She was now faced completely away from him as the tears began to course down her cheeks, their bitterness tainting her words as he sat in sorrowful numbness.

"I know you always wanted a big family, Vaughn. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." His hand captured her chin and turned her eyes up towards his.

"Never apologize for what they did to you, did to us." Then, the full impact of their loss crashed down on the couple, and she fell into his arms. They wrapped protectively around her as her head came to rest on his lap, his chin upon her shoulder. Her sobs mingled with his anguished cries as they shed tears for the little girls with dimples and the little boys with crooked smiles that would now be conceived only in their aching daydreams. They wept as one, their pain magnifying in the light of all that had been taken from them by the Covenant: their young relationship, their first and only child, and now, all hope of ever being blessed with parenthood. Then, through their mourning, a light a pure sound resonated through their hearts. Slowly they rose to their feet, the source of the laughter drawing them hypnotically nearer.

Waverly had woken and was lying on her back, reaching up towards her mobile. Seeing her guardians, she giggled again, reaching up to them with a smile. Vaughn lifted her, reverently, and handed her to Sydney, who held her against her chest in a warm embrace.  
"Sydney" Vaughn murmured softly, wrapping his arms around both of them and pressing a kiss to each of their foreheads. Emerald met amber, and they understood. Evil had taken their children from them, but it was evil that delivered the child that would heal them.  
---  
"Their aliases are solid, and they portray them well. They'll be safe here."

"Good. Keep and eye on them, Dmitra" her superior responded flatly, ending the call. She leaned back in her chair, massaging her temples as the inevitable headache started to form. Dmitra was a loyal agent, but the incandescent green of her voice was insufferable.


End file.
